


Interplay

by Catspaw



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:10:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4302555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catspaw/pseuds/Catspaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aliens made them do it (again).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interplay

Jack had always speculated about aliens making them do it; he'd never thought it would actually happen. Speculated? Hell, that scenario had taken a starring role in some of his most spectacular fantasies over the years. 'Speculated' seemed way too weak a verb to describe that, somehow. But now that the actuality was staring him in the face, so to speak, he was finding it not so much a turn on, more a logistical problem.

He hadn't bargained on stage fright: stomach churning, bile-raising, nausea-inducing, stage fright.

Daniel seemed to be managing just fine. He'd taken his glasses off, the better to ignore the rows of jeering faces, rank upon rank of them, rising up into the gloom behind the high, bubble-shaped force field that enclosed them. The auditorium was large, the crowd was capacity, and the visual effect was dick-shrivelling. One small mercy though, at least the field was soundproof. And another bright spot (although he wasn't altogether sure 'bright' was quite the _mot juste_ ), at least Carter wasn't present. She was currently confined to her cell, since this was strictly a 'men only' gig. Which figured, with this arrogant bunch of posturing, sexist dickheads; her words, not his, but it seemed an accurate enough assessment. Teal'c though, he was in the audience somewhere. Not ideal, to have to perform in front of Teal'c, but manageable, if he ever got his act together. He had to get his act together. (If he didn't, Teal'c could be relied upon to remember that fact for _ever_. And that train of thought really wasn't helping.)

His earlier conversation with Daniel floated into his mind.

_"Jesus! Why is it always about sex?" Daniel abruptly stopped his restless pacing and whirled around to stare down at Jack where he sat propped against the wall._

_"This isn't. This is more about humiliation. And since I'm the man in charge, they'll probably want you to do me. But just a straightforward fuck, nothing fancy, eh?"_

_Daniel had nodded, owl-eyed and serious in the gloom of their cell. And then he'd grinned suddenly, bravado surfacing briefly. "So you won't get carried away and start fucking me back like a crazed weasel?"_

_"This time, not so much." Jack's answering grin had been a fleeting flash of white in the shadows._

_"Pity."_

And they could have managed that. He could have managed that. But he'd been wrong there: this wasn't only about humiliation. This was also about pecking order. He had to fuck Daniel. And he couldn't get it up.

"It's not gonna happen, Daniel."

"Go to your happy place, Jack. Otherwise none of us gets out of here alive."

"No pressure," Jack muttered under his breath. Hard to think happy thoughts when he could see the expressions on the faces outside their bubble and his imagination was helpfully supplying the comments to go with them. Pointless to dwell on the fact that until it became reality, this scenario had been a very happy place indeed.

"Jack, look at me."

With an effort, Jack wrenched his attention away from the crowd.

"That's it, keep looking at me. Look at my dick."

Daniel was nearly as flaccid as he was.

"Not really helping, Daniel."

"It will. Keep watching. Keep listening. Know what I'm thinking about, Jack? I'm thinking about the last time you had to go to D.C." 

Daniel's voice dropped in pitch and his cock gave a little twitch. Jack knew that twitch. He'd seen it many times. Felt it too, Daniel's dick jumping in his hand or in his mouth as it started to stiffen and swell - never in quite these circumstances though. On the heels of that thought he couldn't help but flick his eyes beyond Daniel to their audience.

"Jack? You're not paying attention." Daniel's sharp voice sliced cleanly through the thread of his thoughts. "Look at _me_."

He snapped his eyes back.

"That's better. Keep looking at me. The night before the last time you had to go to D.C. Remember that night?"

Jack did. The events not so much, more impressions: heat and sweat; a groan thrumming deep in Daniel's chest as he pushed inside and Jack pushed back; the burn in his inner thighs as Daniel forced his knees further apart. Although the one thing that set that time apart, _that_ he remembered with crystal clarity: the moment when Daniel had grabbed the scruff of his neck and pinned him down as he surged into Jack's ass with a frantic snap of his hips. Something that shouldn't have been acceptable, let alone arousing, given the water that had passed under his personal bridge, yet somehow was. 

It was only later, when he realised he got partway hard every time the image flitted into his thoughts, that he'd gotten intrigued enough to consider why. It had come to him then that things had changed: Daniel not only wanted him, didn't just enjoy fucking him - and vice versa, of course - it had shaded into something more, somewhere along the line, on both their parts. Something that was starting to look like more than convenient buddy fucking. Something that was starting to look like feelings, and attendant complications, and, god help them both, maybe even permanence. 

Typically, Daniel had pushed the issue, but atypically, he hadn't used words. And actually, it hadn't taken him long to admit to himself that that was fine by him. The feelings and the 'no words' bit, and complications be damned. 

Now, looking into Daniel's eyes and seeing him straining to send him another unspoken message - or was it the same one? - Jack felt his dick wake up.

Daniel was ahead of him. Not fully hard but getting there, and still murmuring quietly as he gave a satisfied nod of his head. "That's it, that's right, focus on that night." His lips sketched the ghost of a smile, and his eyes softened. "That was a great night, wasn't it? Best fuck ever. "

And miraculously, Jack's lips were able to twitch in a small, tight, answering grimace that he knew Daniel would interpret as a grin in the context of that night, and he agreed with a soft 'yeah'. 

He wanted to stroke himself, help things along a little, but that wasn't allowed. So instead he unfocussed his eyes and let himself sink into other recollections. The feel of Daniel's skin sliding warm and slow over his; the way his hair dampened and darkened at the nape of his neck; the weird little grunt he made sometimes when he came really hard (yeah, that was it, that sound always did it up for Jack); the way his ass clenched and pushed around Jack's dick, so he had to work to stay inside; the secret, glorious, ridiculous head rush he got when Daniel pushed into him. Or rather, not so secret any more, apparently, nor ridiculous, now that he understood it better. 

This crazy game of mental pattycake they'd always had going had probably given him away. Whatever. It didn't really matter. Especially not now, not when it was working to their advantage. Him and Daniel, business as usual, just like always when it really counted. 

Daniel's face was neutral, but his eyes were smiling when Jack resurfaced and looked at him again. Daniel was looking at his dick and okay, Jack had been harder in his lifetime but right now, he was hard enough.

"So, we can do this, can't we?" Daniel walked past him and braced himself against the only prop they had, a waist-high bench in the middle of their bubble.

"Yeah. We can do this."

"And it's not going to change anything." A statement, not a question, Jack noted. Although Daniel's eyes were maybe a little anxious when he glanced back over his shoulder.

"Long term, nothing much that hasn't changed already," Jack agreed as he moved to put his hands on Daniel's hips.

 

END


End file.
